#IUNNO IF YOURE CHILL WITH IT ILL SCREECH MORE IN DMS ABOUT IDEA BUT

[futureforged]

*Noticing Trauma sentence starters. 📨 ➤   @pitgritted  [ ; ] “It doesn’t have anything to do with trust. You don’t have to tell me. But I’ll listen, if you do.”

𝐅𝐑𝐔𝐒𝐓𝐑𝐀𝐓𝐈𝐎𝐍 𝐈𝐒 𝐐𝐔𝐈𝐂𝐊 𝐓𝐎 𝐁𝐋𝐄𝐄𝐃 𝐑𝐈𝐆𝐇𝐓 𝐓𝐇𝐑𝐎𝐔𝐆𝐇 𝐇𝐈𝐒 𝐕𝐄𝐈𝐍𝐒, 𝐋𝐄𝐀𝐕𝐈𝐍𝐆 𝐇𝐈𝐌 𝐀 𝐓𝐑𝐄𝐌𝐁𝐋𝐈𝐍𝐆 𝐌𝐄𝐒𝐒 𝐎𝐅 𝐔𝐍𝐒𝐓𝐀𝐁𝐋𝐄 𝐋𝐈𝐌𝐁𝐒 𝐀𝐒 𝐇𝐄 𝐅𝐈𝐆𝐇𝐓𝐒 𝐓𝐎 𝐊𝐄𝐄𝐏 𝐓𝐇𝐄𝐌 𝐒𝐓𝐄𝐀𝐃𝐘. Not weak. Steady. But it's hard to regain any form of composure after the little slip up he's had, no amount of smooth talking able to burrow his way out unless he wants to snap his teeth with a sarcastic, biting comment that he knows would only tag on more suspicion or shatter the mood more violently. Not needed, not now. It wouldn't fix anything...

Jayce curls his hands that bit tighter around the handle of Mercury. She still hums away beneath his hold, a reverberating sound that carries an ever steady but barely noticeable quake. For a moment, he's a little jealous, neatly blunt fingernails biting into the leather covering his hands from within the protective gauntlet's he wears. He's irritated, defensive, embarrassed, but the fighter's concern is so thickly palpable in the air he can't bring himself to keep up the pissy mask for long.

However, he still can't bring himself to look at Sett. Shame mingles strongly into the explosive concoction of emotions he feels whirling about, his eyes taking on a more dulled tone, darker, marred over in stormy fatigue as he allows his expression to slip knowing his face was safe from being studied.

A glum shade, muddied by what memories soured everything else about the relatively tame spar just mere moments prior. The smoke stings at his nose.

Still in the process of trying to catch up mentally with everything, he knows for damn sure trying to explain things off as either honestly as he could, or cover them up with the bullshit excuse of it being nothing — just an overreaction, just a mistake — wasn't going to patch anything up. His shoulder's remain squared off, tensed so tight he swears the next breath he takes will snap his tendons like a taut pulled elastic from the adrenaline heavy strain.

With a tired sigh, a following resigned hang of his head, he shifts his feet, a forlorn expression crossing his features as the edge of his boot nudges against the shattered bit of stone & metal that crunch away beneath. He can hear nothing over the silence draped oppressively over his shoulders, somehow, it's all the more frustrating as he realizes the other man is thinking, taking everything about the situation in, carefully piecing together why Jayce had reacted how he did when he felt himself begin to slip more into that fight or flight state of mind during their fight. He's not proud of his panic, but now that he's had a moment to breathe, he shakes his head, stands straighter, turns on his heel with a premade excuse, a sentence carefully crafted & ready to push this whole disaster topic away balanced right on the edge of his tongue.

Too bad it's nearly choked on when the other man speaks. His voice is serious, low. Not quite fully sympathetic, only painfully, frustratingly cautious, so quietly gentle he could've missed the rare show of concern that flashes. Shrugging his shoulders, Jayce moves to busy himself with a jittery circle of his wrist, tightening his hold once again as he glares into the sleek frame of his weapon. He scoffs with a shake of his head.

The gesture says all he needs to express.

I don't trust you. Not enough. Ironic, considering he'd allowed the other to brutally spar against him, allowed some semblance of physical intimacy past 'just fighting', but apparently the line is drawn when it came to emotional reliance. Trust. Darkened brows remain pinched, that continual flow of steady anger all directing itself inwards spills over as he shifts, turning to cast a look the other's way, an attempt to gauge the Ionian's own feeling's before he knew how best to continue.

Only to once more find himself startled at the oddly kind, disarming words shared further. Read like a simple schematic for one of his machines, Jayce blinks wide eyes at the man, turning to better face him as his face twists up into a confused, baffled look. A heavy swallow as he braces his hammer's end against the flat of the ground, a twist of her handle properly disarming the hextech whirring away at his side. Head cocking at an angle, he answers, though his voice is uncharacteristically quiet. Not at all loud, confident like he normally prided himself on being.

❝ First of all … sorry for that. Quick reflexes you have. ❞ As usual, he tags on, risking a wincing glance to the side, where some of the floor remained steaming with smoke, still charred an unnatural shade from where he'd aimed his cannon earlier. Another guilty swallow, before he continues, gaze breaking, glove padded hand lifting to rub at his neck in a self-soothing gesture. ❝ Second … what do you know about me. Honestly? ❞

A stupid question. But depending on the answer given, Jayce'd plan where to go, what to share, from there. If tales of the council room’s explosion reached this far, if he was connected to that disaster or any of the others in the infancy of his inventing career, he’d add on his own context behind his twitchy trigger finger. Adaptable. It's what he's thankfully best at. He wasn't entirely eager to bare his heart out now of all times, but … clearly they couldn't get anymore training done if he was constantly holding back out of some lingering ptsd. His progress was stunted unless he addressed it head on, or worked through it in his own time. Huffing softly through his nose, he waits, hands moving to pry his gauntlets off.

#➤ ꜰɪʟᴇᴅ ᴀꜱ . . . // in character. #pitgritted #❝ Shine razor eyes before the walls come down. Wilder than lions ; louder than sound. ❞ . [ PITGRITTED ] #◈ *defender of tomorrow ( … ) league of legends ( post arcane ) verse #Heehee trauma time yaaaaaayyyyyy #IUNNO IF YOURE CHILL WITH IT ILL SCREECH MORE IN DMS ABOUT IDEA BUT #*yeets and rolls away*